


The Sun Behind Him

by Vera



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-05
Updated: 2002-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I remember driving, the phone ringing and the car pulling out of my control, drawn to the boy on the bridge like a kiss and we're off and falling and flying.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Behind Him

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for The Pilot

The glass under my hands has warmed. I get a cool shock when I rest my forehead against the window. Skin pulls tight across my scalp.

 

 

I can see a long way from the central tower's window. I can see the wide white caps of plant number 3, the river a silvered snake through endless cornfields patch-worked with cow pastures.

 

 

My dick nudges the glass, slips and then drags as my hips push forward, pull back.

 

 

When I was dead I soared over the river, the fields, the silos and barns, over my purgatory, my Elba, Smallville. Cars were ants, houses were toys, and I saw in it not the death of hope but a new beginning. As far as I could see, mine. My half-buried treasure. My staging point.

 

 

Goosebumps, and the window frame presses a red ridge into my forearms where I lean against it.

 

 

I remember driving, the phone ringing and the car pulling out of my control, drawn to the boy on the bridge like a kiss and we're off and falling and flying.

 

 

My breath paints the glass beneath my lips with condensation that pulses in time with me and the slip, drag, slip that sends shivers along my spine. From the corner of my eye I can see his reflection in the window. He's looking down at what he's doing to me, all lust and wonder.

 

 

When I'm reborn my mouth tastes cold and dirty. Everything aches. The sun behind him hurts my eyes. For a moment there is nothing in the  
world but the boy I should have killed. Pain rushes forward and my next memory is blankets and people prodding me. They confirm my miraculous existence.

 

 

Hands on my hips slip forward and touch. Yes, there. *There*. His breath against my scalp in short guttural gasps. I let him force my chest against the window. I need -- I need its cool counterpoint to his heat.

 

 

"OK?" he asks, rough voiced and panting, lips against my ear. A squeeze that's just right, the wicked curl of his suddenly urgent thrusting and --

 

 

The window needs cleaning.

 

 

I close my eyes on Smallville, on plant number 3 and corn and cows. Hold in my memory his reflection next to mine, floating beyond the glass. My second chance. My future. My flawless boy. Clark.


End file.
